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by meepbeep



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, ah yes my first e/R, also 3rd person!, huzzah, i am so proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meepbeep/pseuds/meepbeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a private soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





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"So how does an artist get such calloused fingers?"

Grantaire sighs softly into the goldenrod mess of curls that he has melted into. They smell faintly of honey and sex, feel thick and satiny.

"Is now _really_ the time for questions like that?" he murmurs, a lock falling between his lips. He huffs, and it slips back onto the pillow beneath their heads.

"As good as any."

"Well, there's pencils, first off."

"Wouldn't that only affect your knuckles, then?"

Grantaire shushes Enjolras and tugs him closer to press a kiss to his temple. " 'm not finished. There's also when I have to work with clay, and -"

"I thought clay was soft," Enjolras interrupts.

"I said, _"shhh"_ , E." Grantaire smirks and kisses him again. "And there's charcoal, and chalk."

"Would that really make such a difference?"

"I'm not just a visual artist, you know."

"No?"

A chuckle. "Six months and you didn't know that?"

"You don't show off too much, you know."

"Because I'm not important," he says. "Not like you."

"I'm not having this argument with you," Enjolras warns, tangling his lean legs between Grantaire's muscular ones. "Point is that you don't exactly put all your talents on a pedestal for all to see."

"I would have thought that you maybe would have glimpsed the guitar. Or the piano. Or the microphones."

"Well, I didn't!"

"Obviously." He smiles again. "It's mostly the strings from the guitar, probably."

"Mmmm." Enjolras falls silent.

Grantaire shifts, one hand wandering to cradle the small of Enjolras' back. Enjolras smiles, sighing contentedly.

"You should show me more of you," he mumbles, as he drifts to sleep.

Grantaire lies awake, heart beating in syncopation with his love's, and worries.

How much can he show?

How much of his heart can he offer to him before crushing him beneath its weight?


End file.
